So,
it's been a year...almost to the date it's been a year.
I haven't worked.
I haven't been unemployed longer than a week since I was 16.
Do I remember how to work? (lol)
I've been offered a job.
Lower pay than I'd like, and not 100% fulltime yet...but foot in the door and personal schedule management.
Only really lacking medical at this stage...and that will happen.
Have a drug test tomorrow. I know I'll pass that, I'm too paranoid for my own entertainment. (lmao)
Step 1) Pee in a cup
Step 2)...........
Step 3) Profit
Recommended by someone I think is a friend, but definitely strikes me as honorable.
I know part of it is to save his bacon, he's running ragged, but with everyone else out there looking for jobs he didn't have to point at me.
Am I not ambitious enough? I'm taking a fairly basic job, but damnit I like to work. I like being responsible, making money for myself and others, and WORKING.
I don't really care what I'm doing at this stage, but I wonder if I ever really did.
Did it matter before?
Did anything but paying the bills, having my dignity and supporting my family matter?
Am I settling, that I am this happy with just labor?
Or do I simply crave good old fashioned work...
I'm not as excited as I thought I'd be,
but after getting close (seriously close) two other times, I think I'm not going to get all happy until I actually get my first check.
But damn, I'm as close as I've been (but once) in a year.
I want to work,
and it looks like I just might be getting to do so soon!
Now,to make it an even better day,
who wants to take my cat!?
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Why women outlast their men....
It's been a while...
I took a break, sue me! ;)
So,
My wife Roxz and I took a drive Friday.
She was in 'contrary mode', so the drive (to get lunch/take pictures of fall leaves at the dam) took 4x as long as it should have...
We passed the dam, twice, from three different directions (don't ask) before settling down to eat...grumpily.
Pizza...after all that running, she wanted pizza.
grrrrrr
We eat, her mood improves....mine just goes from starving to 'not ready to eat your face'.
She decides we still need to go picture taking.
We go to the reserve (damned dam had another dead skunk on the top...you know you can't get that taste out of the back of your throat for at least 5 miles)...
We drive down in, same leaves as last time...same pictures as last time...same flinging of leaves as the last time.
(actually, it's quite lovely this time of year. I wanted to go, but the food pursuits had put me in grumptacular mode...so it took some funsy pictures and giggling to get me outta my 'grrrrr' face).
I cheer up, we drive around a bit more and explore some alternate routes home.
Thank goodness we have a digital camera, we couldn't have carried as much film as she burned! :)
We unload the stuff we picked up at the grocery store (on a Saturday afternoon...the beginning of Mikey 'grumpface' McGee's appearance)...and she swings her purse about bouncing out of my car.
Fast forward 4 hours, darkness has settled.
I go to the Fridge, I want a Coke and Bourbon...I open the door...
I bellow across the house "So, did we forget something at the grocery, Dear?"
"Aw NUTS!" comes the reply from she who must be obeyed...(she thought the empty box in the kitchen wasn't for the recycling, was actually full)
I call my parents, painting a picture of desperate thirst and need...and brave the darkness and cold to walk across the street and claim a few cans of their soda.
I walk out the door, and as I pass my car...in the dark...I see a firefly in my front garden.
In October.
In 30+ degree weather.
A firefly.
It blinks...
I search...
it blinks again,
and I find....a pink Blackberry.
My wife's phone...has been in our wet garden for 4 hours. And she has not noticed it missing once.
In 4 hours. She didn't even notice.
Why was I surprised?
This is the woman who left her purse, with everything important in her life, at a McDonalds in Tallahassee Fla, and didn't notice for over an hour.
This is the woman that has now been told she MUST inform anyone she is with if she is hanging her purse on the back of her chair in a restaurant,
is not allowed possession of the checkbook,
and I SWEAR has managed to misplace her cat.
I, on the other hand, pat my hip to check for my phone...pat my pocket to check for my keys...and pat my butt for my wallet...when I'm leaving my own house, leaving my car or what have you. I have the Checkbook in a hanging bill holder where I can see it every morning and evening.
If I go 30 minutes without checking one (or all) of these things I start to feel lost...as though I have been dropped off in a foreign country and cannot read the road-signs, or am revisiting a bad experiment in high school.
So, I sojourn over to my parents with the phone now safely ensconced in my pocket. I return with beverage and I wait.
An hour passes, dinner is eaten...she doesn't notice her purse is devoid of phone.
Another hour passes, and I wonder at her casual knitting...enjoyment of the TV/cat uninterrupted by the void that would have been clawing at my subconscious after the 1st hour, much less 6.
Another hour, and I casually ask if she got any messages from a friend of ours visiting Disney. She doesn't even look up from her knitting...she just says 'Nope, haven't heard a 'bong' yet tonight!'
and continues to knit.
and knit.
My brain is screaming "all is NOT right with the world woman, your phone is in my pocket...but for all you know it could be in some Columbian drug lord's possession this very moment, found on the trails of the local park and immediately put to use pushing illegal substances...passed up the chain with a speed rivaling new music being violated by Napster...our bill could be 8,000.00 by the end of the month...I may have to start working for these dealers in order to pay the bill, AFTER they use the data to find me and blackmail me so you don't get blamed for the seedy deals they have set in motion. I may have to go out in a blaze of glory, like some moment out of "Matrix"....okay, more like "Pineapple Express", but meh. And you are just sitting there with a grin on your face, Zen-like peace with the click-click of your needles...I could have been headed down a path of DESTRUCTION because of your neglect....grrrrrr"
and all I say is 'Yes dear'.
An hour later, I hand over her phone...with a lecture about cost, about replacement, about other things...
and she smiles up at me,
and says "sorry honey"....
with a smile....
that smile that says 'you worry too much, you're going to have a coronary'...
I smile back and say 'okay'...with a look that says 'I HAVE TO WORRY TOO MUCH, I can't survive being a drug dealer!'
I am,
I'm going to have a coronary...
I just hope I can have a daughter first, so I can do this to some other guy!
I took a break, sue me! ;)
So,
My wife Roxz and I took a drive Friday.
She was in 'contrary mode', so the drive (to get lunch/take pictures of fall leaves at the dam) took 4x as long as it should have...
We passed the dam, twice, from three different directions (don't ask) before settling down to eat...grumpily.
Pizza...after all that running, she wanted pizza.
grrrrrr
We eat, her mood improves....mine just goes from starving to 'not ready to eat your face'.
She decides we still need to go picture taking.
We go to the reserve (damned dam had another dead skunk on the top...you know you can't get that taste out of the back of your throat for at least 5 miles)...
We drive down in, same leaves as last time...same pictures as last time...same flinging of leaves as the last time.
(actually, it's quite lovely this time of year. I wanted to go, but the food pursuits had put me in grumptacular mode...so it took some funsy pictures and giggling to get me outta my 'grrrrr' face).
I cheer up, we drive around a bit more and explore some alternate routes home.
Thank goodness we have a digital camera, we couldn't have carried as much film as she burned! :)
We unload the stuff we picked up at the grocery store (on a Saturday afternoon...the beginning of Mikey 'grumpface' McGee's appearance)...and she swings her purse about bouncing out of my car.
Fast forward 4 hours, darkness has settled.
I go to the Fridge, I want a Coke and Bourbon...I open the door...
I bellow across the house "So, did we forget something at the grocery, Dear?"
"Aw NUTS!" comes the reply from she who must be obeyed...(she thought the empty box in the kitchen wasn't for the recycling, was actually full)
I call my parents, painting a picture of desperate thirst and need...and brave the darkness and cold to walk across the street and claim a few cans of their soda.
I walk out the door, and as I pass my car...in the dark...I see a firefly in my front garden.
In October.
In 30+ degree weather.
A firefly.
It blinks...
I search...
it blinks again,
and I find....a pink Blackberry.
My wife's phone...has been in our wet garden for 4 hours. And she has not noticed it missing once.
In 4 hours. She didn't even notice.
Why was I surprised?
This is the woman who left her purse, with everything important in her life, at a McDonalds in Tallahassee Fla, and didn't notice for over an hour.
This is the woman that has now been told she MUST inform anyone she is with if she is hanging her purse on the back of her chair in a restaurant,
is not allowed possession of the checkbook,
and I SWEAR has managed to misplace her cat.
I, on the other hand, pat my hip to check for my phone...pat my pocket to check for my keys...and pat my butt for my wallet...when I'm leaving my own house, leaving my car or what have you. I have the Checkbook in a hanging bill holder where I can see it every morning and evening.
If I go 30 minutes without checking one (or all) of these things I start to feel lost...as though I have been dropped off in a foreign country and cannot read the road-signs, or am revisiting a bad experiment in high school.
So, I sojourn over to my parents with the phone now safely ensconced in my pocket. I return with beverage and I wait.
An hour passes, dinner is eaten...she doesn't notice her purse is devoid of phone.
Another hour passes, and I wonder at her casual knitting...enjoyment of the TV/cat uninterrupted by the void that would have been clawing at my subconscious after the 1st hour, much less 6.
Another hour, and I casually ask if she got any messages from a friend of ours visiting Disney. She doesn't even look up from her knitting...she just says 'Nope, haven't heard a 'bong' yet tonight!'
and continues to knit.
and knit.
My brain is screaming "all is NOT right with the world woman, your phone is in my pocket...but for all you know it could be in some Columbian drug lord's possession this very moment, found on the trails of the local park and immediately put to use pushing illegal substances...passed up the chain with a speed rivaling new music being violated by Napster...our bill could be 8,000.00 by the end of the month...I may have to start working for these dealers in order to pay the bill, AFTER they use the data to find me and blackmail me so you don't get blamed for the seedy deals they have set in motion. I may have to go out in a blaze of glory, like some moment out of "Matrix"....okay, more like "Pineapple Express", but meh. And you are just sitting there with a grin on your face, Zen-like peace with the click-click of your needles...I could have been headed down a path of DESTRUCTION because of your neglect....grrrrrr"
and all I say is 'Yes dear'.
An hour later, I hand over her phone...with a lecture about cost, about replacement, about other things...
and she smiles up at me,
and says "sorry honey"....
with a smile....
that smile that says 'you worry too much, you're going to have a coronary'...
I smile back and say 'okay'...with a look that says 'I HAVE TO WORRY TOO MUCH, I can't survive being a drug dealer!'
I am,
I'm going to have a coronary...
I just hope I can have a daughter first, so I can do this to some other guy!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Apocalypse Butt...
When they pick the Four Horsemen, my cat will be tapped for Pestilence.
They (it's always the ubiquitous 'THEY', but who really would be hiring?)will be hopeful, thinking this Apocalypse will finally work...the perfect team!
She will decline, citing that the job will not be challenging enough.
I may have hinted before, but I will re-iterate now, the ritual that is my cat's violation of all things natural and good.
Daylight Hours Preamble:
She suddenly gets cute and cuddly. As there are sooo many reasons she may be kissing up (food, fear of retribution, the temperature dropped below 70) we are never prepared for the inevitable attack.
She'll be next to myself or the Wife, on the couch usually, when suddenly her head will pop up like she's heard something. Still, no real warning as this is also normal behavior. It's like she sees a spirit.
(Now I know why Medieval societies thought they could look between the ears of a cat to see the dead walking the earth...well, that and Middle Ages peasants weren't known for their brights.)
Then she's off the couch, with a slight bottle-brush action going on, like something's startled her. Some portent of things to come, though she doesn't quite know it yet. We do now.
We didn't. First couple of times this happened we thought she really was a watch kitty...or retarded. Well, we weren't wrong on one count...but this wasn't the symptom.
She starts to pace, investigating, moving about the living room.
(When we were in Florida, where we finally came to understand the signs of the Apocalypse, it was a small apartment where we could witness this unfold before us in its entirety.)
She then starts to run.
Run likes she's fleeing something...
Run AWAY! (we know now, she was fleeing her butt)
She would get a few laps down around the small living room, thundering back and forth, gaining momentum.
She would go round, up onto the back of the couch, ricochet off the head of the recliner, and barrel under the work table. Lather, Rinse, Repeat...about 4 times.
Then she'd pull a 'Matrix' kitty move, go up a wall, pull a U-Turn in the air, and bolt into the bathroom (wherein was contained the litter box) without touching the ground.
There was fear in her eyes that whole time. Abject terror at first. (After her first six months it became a sense of fearful resignation, of inescapable pain that may, with any one of these 'episodes', end in her demise.)
The first time it happened, we thought it was hilarious...
Then she was gone...
for 5 whole minutes.
I know what the speed of Light means, abstractly and quantitatively.
I know what the speed of Sound means, literally.
I never really grasped what the speed of 'stink' was until I saw it first hand.
The cat moved at something akin to the speed of light, after rebounding off the last wall and heading for the bathroom doing her best 'Neo' impression.
I heard the digging, scraping, desperate attempt at burial...a process the feline attempted for 5 straight minutes, I think to a small degree out of shame but certainly out of self preservation.
Then I saw her slink out of the Bathroom.
This slink was not one of fear,
it was not one of pain nor of violation...
it was one of weight
she was weighted down...
Remember Predator, when the alien moved through the woods and caused a ripple effect...or the mirage on hot pavement in the summer?
I swear, before the smell hit me, that I saw a shimmer/ripple in the air rolling over and past the feline pressing her down...(I have now found the speed of smell is in direct proportion to the comedic effect it will produce)
This, the very first time our cat did this to us, the last (printable/intelligible) words out of my wife's mouth for the next 15 minutes were, "Aw, the poor little thing looks like she's sick...is there something wrong with....What...the...F##....ACK...KAFF...HURK".
That's when the wall of STENCH hit us. When I say wall, I mean wall. It was palpable, it would have been as easy to cut as the tension of a Republican Convention Michael Moore showed up to for the buffet.
It hurt.
My eyes watered.
My brain, desperate to preserve itself, attempted to exit my left ear..and my wife fell over the coffee table trying to get to the spray air freshener.
She sprayed, I opened windows, and we fought our way on to the front porch. (there was a brief traffic jam at the door to get out, she won by elbowing me in the groin...to this day I still don't blame her)
We heard mewling...and we didn't care.
We spent somewhere on the order of 15 minutes cursing, through the gagging.
We went back inside, the cat lay on the floor panting as though she'd given birth.
The stench had begun to subside enough to not prompt nausea...much.
My wife looked at me with a pleading expression, after walking into the kitchen to gather the tools of scoopage...and I merely shook my head.
She walked into that bathroom like a condemned criminal headed to the gallows. I saluted. The cat mewled.
I kicked the cat.....
The speed of Stink is a formula involving the level of noxiousness, athleticism of the victims, degree of surprise and direct value of the comedy...and will always, ALWAYS catch the unaware or observed....
ALWAYS.....
They (it's always the ubiquitous 'THEY', but who really would be hiring?)will be hopeful, thinking this Apocalypse will finally work...the perfect team!
She will decline, citing that the job will not be challenging enough.
I may have hinted before, but I will re-iterate now, the ritual that is my cat's violation of all things natural and good.
Daylight Hours Preamble:
She suddenly gets cute and cuddly. As there are sooo many reasons she may be kissing up (food, fear of retribution, the temperature dropped below 70) we are never prepared for the inevitable attack.
She'll be next to myself or the Wife, on the couch usually, when suddenly her head will pop up like she's heard something. Still, no real warning as this is also normal behavior. It's like she sees a spirit.
(Now I know why Medieval societies thought they could look between the ears of a cat to see the dead walking the earth...well, that and Middle Ages peasants weren't known for their brights.)
Then she's off the couch, with a slight bottle-brush action going on, like something's startled her. Some portent of things to come, though she doesn't quite know it yet. We do now.
We didn't. First couple of times this happened we thought she really was a watch kitty...or retarded. Well, we weren't wrong on one count...but this wasn't the symptom.
She starts to pace, investigating, moving about the living room.
(When we were in Florida, where we finally came to understand the signs of the Apocalypse, it was a small apartment where we could witness this unfold before us in its entirety.)
She then starts to run.
Run likes she's fleeing something...
Run AWAY! (we know now, she was fleeing her butt)
She would get a few laps down around the small living room, thundering back and forth, gaining momentum.
She would go round, up onto the back of the couch, ricochet off the head of the recliner, and barrel under the work table. Lather, Rinse, Repeat...about 4 times.
Then she'd pull a 'Matrix' kitty move, go up a wall, pull a U-Turn in the air, and bolt into the bathroom (wherein was contained the litter box) without touching the ground.
There was fear in her eyes that whole time. Abject terror at first. (After her first six months it became a sense of fearful resignation, of inescapable pain that may, with any one of these 'episodes', end in her demise.)
The first time it happened, we thought it was hilarious...
Then she was gone...
for 5 whole minutes.
I know what the speed of Light means, abstractly and quantitatively.
I know what the speed of Sound means, literally.
I never really grasped what the speed of 'stink' was until I saw it first hand.
The cat moved at something akin to the speed of light, after rebounding off the last wall and heading for the bathroom doing her best 'Neo' impression.
I heard the digging, scraping, desperate attempt at burial...a process the feline attempted for 5 straight minutes, I think to a small degree out of shame but certainly out of self preservation.
Then I saw her slink out of the Bathroom.
This slink was not one of fear,
it was not one of pain nor of violation...
it was one of weight
she was weighted down...
Remember Predator, when the alien moved through the woods and caused a ripple effect...or the mirage on hot pavement in the summer?
I swear, before the smell hit me, that I saw a shimmer/ripple in the air rolling over and past the feline pressing her down...(I have now found the speed of smell is in direct proportion to the comedic effect it will produce)
This, the very first time our cat did this to us, the last (printable/intelligible) words out of my wife's mouth for the next 15 minutes were, "Aw, the poor little thing looks like she's sick...is there something wrong with....What...the...F##....ACK...KAFF...HURK".
That's when the wall of STENCH hit us. When I say wall, I mean wall. It was palpable, it would have been as easy to cut as the tension of a Republican Convention Michael Moore showed up to for the buffet.
It hurt.
My eyes watered.
My brain, desperate to preserve itself, attempted to exit my left ear..and my wife fell over the coffee table trying to get to the spray air freshener.
She sprayed, I opened windows, and we fought our way on to the front porch. (there was a brief traffic jam at the door to get out, she won by elbowing me in the groin...to this day I still don't blame her)
We heard mewling...and we didn't care.
We spent somewhere on the order of 15 minutes cursing, through the gagging.
We went back inside, the cat lay on the floor panting as though she'd given birth.
The stench had begun to subside enough to not prompt nausea...much.
My wife looked at me with a pleading expression, after walking into the kitchen to gather the tools of scoopage...and I merely shook my head.
She walked into that bathroom like a condemned criminal headed to the gallows. I saluted. The cat mewled.
I kicked the cat.....
The speed of Stink is a formula involving the level of noxiousness, athleticism of the victims, degree of surprise and direct value of the comedy...and will always, ALWAYS catch the unaware or observed....
ALWAYS.....
Friday, October 2, 2009
Pedestrian writing
I think I have grown a bit....meh?
in the last few days/weeks on Facebook.
I am divorcing myself from it for 2 days.
Sounds minor, but I find myself reflexively going there every opportunity I get.
Not an addiction, so much, as a filler.
This blog is limited venue, and more for me to put things into print I'm thinking of.
I won't draw attention to it on the 'book' for those days either, and may only occasionally from now on (haven't decided yet).
I think part of it is due to not having my 'home' and time to myself.
I love my Mother in Law, but I am a social creature.
Roxz and I made a new friend,
I reconnected with a number of old ones,
and I have now been without real contact with them for almost 2 weeks.
I am gregarious,
I am social
and I am stifled when this happens.
I have my games, my gaming buddies...but that's on a specific schedule and not really socializing. It's fun, a hobby and an outlet.
If I had a job, it would be one thing...
If we had money, and could afford to go do things every day...
or she really wanted to socialize, but she's the antithesis of me...introverted, shy, quiet and unassuming.
So my outward reaching nature has not been fed, for damn near two weeks.
I am getting crabby, needy and absorbed.
I can handle weather based cabin fever, but this is killing me!
If this seems to be unrelated to Facebook, it's because I have been using FB as an escape when I'm home right now...and a surrogate for human interaction.
I also seem to be commenting on the stupidest things, most innocuous, and losing sight of my writing to just 'fill'.
I don't know that it really matters, but it helps me put it into print...sort out how I feel.
I may have a job, talked to someone today about it.
Mom and Dad bought me a GPS to help with the work, lotta driving...
and I can't shout it from the rooftops, because it is a 'meh' job, and I can't go out and celebrate...how much does that suck?
Griping without humour, I am trying to avoid.
Lackluster I am starting to feel.
Pissy, bitchy or plain unappreciative I am NOT trying to be.
But I am feeling tedium, and tedious...
in the last few days/weeks on Facebook.
I am divorcing myself from it for 2 days.
Sounds minor, but I find myself reflexively going there every opportunity I get.
Not an addiction, so much, as a filler.
This blog is limited venue, and more for me to put things into print I'm thinking of.
I won't draw attention to it on the 'book' for those days either, and may only occasionally from now on (haven't decided yet).
I think part of it is due to not having my 'home' and time to myself.
I love my Mother in Law, but I am a social creature.
Roxz and I made a new friend,
I reconnected with a number of old ones,
and I have now been without real contact with them for almost 2 weeks.
I am gregarious,
I am social
and I am stifled when this happens.
I have my games, my gaming buddies...but that's on a specific schedule and not really socializing. It's fun, a hobby and an outlet.
If I had a job, it would be one thing...
If we had money, and could afford to go do things every day...
or she really wanted to socialize, but she's the antithesis of me...introverted, shy, quiet and unassuming.
So my outward reaching nature has not been fed, for damn near two weeks.
I am getting crabby, needy and absorbed.
I can handle weather based cabin fever, but this is killing me!
If this seems to be unrelated to Facebook, it's because I have been using FB as an escape when I'm home right now...and a surrogate for human interaction.
I also seem to be commenting on the stupidest things, most innocuous, and losing sight of my writing to just 'fill'.
I don't know that it really matters, but it helps me put it into print...sort out how I feel.
I may have a job, talked to someone today about it.
Mom and Dad bought me a GPS to help with the work, lotta driving...
and I can't shout it from the rooftops, because it is a 'meh' job, and I can't go out and celebrate...how much does that suck?
Griping without humour, I am trying to avoid.
Lackluster I am starting to feel.
Pissy, bitchy or plain unappreciative I am NOT trying to be.
But I am feeling tedium, and tedious...
Muse
My muse has left me...
I just have no 'umph' in my typing.
The cat, damned beast that she is, has abandoned her normal vile behavior and actually been cute and tolerable.
She hasn't bitten my MIL in 2 days,
she hasn't broken anything,
and she hasn't woken me up.
My car is running,
the sun came back out today,
and Roxz and I are just kinda snuggly.
I don't have enough to complain about without delving into politics, and I'd actually become disgusted then!
Hrm...
well,
I'm bored...mostly...but not enough to bitch.
ugh...
I'm.... , perky?
What the hell's wrong with me!
;)
I just have no 'umph' in my typing.
The cat, damned beast that she is, has abandoned her normal vile behavior and actually been cute and tolerable.
She hasn't bitten my MIL in 2 days,
she hasn't broken anything,
and she hasn't woken me up.
My car is running,
the sun came back out today,
and Roxz and I are just kinda snuggly.
I don't have enough to complain about without delving into politics, and I'd actually become disgusted then!
Hrm...
well,
I'm bored...mostly...but not enough to bitch.
ugh...
I'm.... , perky?
What the hell's wrong with me!
;)
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Taste of a Woman
Is a subtle thing.
A flavor oft missed,
misunderstood or unappreciated.
it is her scent
her voice
her very being
is what she does
how she is
and what she softly cries
it is ambrosia
honey and sunlight
all rolled into one
it reaches beyond the now
and grabs you
before and after
is what brings you back
to the font
and flavors of youth
the taste of a woman is
love
life
breath
lust
fire
hope
the taste of a woman
is what makes
all of us
alive forever
A flavor oft missed,
misunderstood or unappreciated.
it is her scent
her voice
her very being
is what she does
how she is
and what she softly cries
it is ambrosia
honey and sunlight
all rolled into one
it reaches beyond the now
and grabs you
before and after
is what brings you back
to the font
and flavors of youth
the taste of a woman is
love
life
breath
lust
fire
hope
the taste of a woman
is what makes
all of us
alive forever
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